


you can get back again

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Drinking & Talking, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, Humor, Insecurity, Kissing, Makeouts, Second first kiss, Sexual Content, Speculation, Superhero Registration Act, Undressing, references to past relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just me working out my feels.  Daisy and Coulson are driven apart and come back together again. And Coulson apologizing for stuff he probably doesn't need to apologize about. XD</p><p>Title from the Sade song "By Your Side".</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can get back again

#

“Sorry.”

She looks over at him and pushes the beer in front of her away slightly, as though she’s been caught off guard.

The bartender notices and raises an eyebrow, but she shakes her head at him to ward him off as Coulson’s eyes follow then rest on her again.

Then, with a tilt of her head, “That’s why you’re here?”

He handles his glass of scotch between the fingers of a prosthetic she’s never seen, and swishes it around.

The ice tinkles against the surface, and the sound reminds her of how fragile everything seems right now.

“No,” he slowly answers, and shifts his lean against the bar. “I think I interrupted something.  The guy you were talking to.”

True.  Tom _did_ walk away, before the conversation could turn awkward at Coulson’s arrival. Everything changing in a moment, and she realizes that she’s still tense and wills herself to relax.

“Tom,” she says frankly, handing him the business card out of her front shirt pocket. “Is in reinsurance.  Visiting from the UK.”

“Mmm,” he replies, taking a look then putting the card back down on the bar. “I screwed up.”

She blinks for a moment. “That’s the same as ‘sorry’.”

“Okay.” He pulls out a barstool and sits. “Then I’m two different kinds of sorry.”

That seems to amuse her as he watches her bite her lower lip.

“This new?” she asks, reaching out to brush her fingers over the prosthetic hand resting against his thigh.

“Uh.” He swallows for a moment, distracted. 

The last time this happened was under less than ideal circumstances.  It left her feeling shut out when he pushed her away. Again.

“You seem more comfortable with this one,” she adds quietly, removing her hand.

“I didn’t think you’d run,” he starts, bluntly.

She moves her beer back in close range and sighs.  “You know why I did.”

“To protect us.”

“So SHIELD wouldn’t be forced to choose.  And you can still protect people.  That’s what matters.”

“You weren’t easy to track down,” he goes on, his eyes drawing around the hotel bar for a moment as someone enters the room.

“It’s safe here,” she assures him. “The owner isn’t interested in checking for registration.”

“Good,” he says with a warm smile of relief.

“And, I’m only here for a few days,” she adds with a shrug. “Got my own project in the works.”

There’s a tinge of excitement there, and also hesitation.  Because he’s the outsider here.

“Looking to bring on any outside help?” he asks, a bit shyly, frowning like he’s gearing himself up for the answer.

“Are you asking as SHIELD, or as my friend?”

She’s searching his eyes for the conflict. Confirmation that this is still pulling him in two directions.  Because she can’t do that right now.

“Neither,” he says, a little raggedly.  Unsure of himself.

When she made it clear that Inhumans weren’t her only priority, Coulson- _Phil’s_ -name came up as a reason.  Now, he’s here and she can admit it.  Lincoln was right.

She would tell him, but he’s gone underground to help, while she stayed up top with Joey and Yo-Yo.  It wasn’t the worst split she’s ever had, amicable.  Although, this time, it made her ask herself a lot of questions. 

Why she locked on to someone who couldn’t take those steps with her. Like she’s cursed, repeating the same pattern on an endless loop.

Coulson’s gone back to burying himself in his scotch, since she hasn’t answered him.  Not that she did it intentionally. Not at all.

“I missed you, too.”

He stops mid-sip and huffs at that, then takes a long drink.

Neither one of them has _ever_ been good at this.  It’s always felt dangerous naming what it is.

“I take it this means you’re still running things ‘off the books’?” she goes on, as he puts down his glass and turns to her.

“When it comes to this?  Yes.”

“Then we should catch up,” she tells him. “Someplace…a little less public.”

He raises his eyebrows at that, then waits for her to stand before he follows.

 

#

They don’t talk much on the way up to her room.

He notices a bruise just above her collarbone, fading, like someone tried to grab her and couldn’t hold on.

She swipes the card key to let them in and then disables an internal alarm system with her cellphone.  The setup is sparse, spread out around the room in stations. Very much her brand of organized chaos.

“Make yourself at home,” she tells him, taking off her leather jacket, and tossing it on the bed.  Doing a few quick rounds of the laptop set up.

He’s checking it out, not the computers or the data on their screens, but for any details that are hers alone.  There aren’t any.  She could put it all away in a moment and you’d never know she was here. 

He slides his jacket off, and sits down on the edge of the bed, laying it down carefully next to hers.

“What was the apology for, Coulson?” she asks as she taps on a keyboard.

“Lots of things. Chasing after ghosts. Cutting myself off.”

“I didn’t exactly leave the door open this time,” she admits, leaned over and turning to look at him. “I was dealing with things in my own way, too.”

“Did that work for you?” he asks sincerely, following her with his eyes as she comes to stand before him.

“No.”

There’s a long and awkward enough pause that she feels the need to say something more.

“We're both really terrible at this,” she rushes out.

“I think it was the scotch. We were doing better back at the bar, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I remember, when we went to the Retreat,” he begins. “I made a huge mistake. I didn't want to leave, but I thought I had to.  Then everything proved me wrong.”

“And I remember…I didn't want you to go,” she says, the bed creaking as she sits.

“I could've stayed,” he says carefully. “We could've roasted marshmallows.”

His tone sounds teasing, but she knows he’s trying to ease his nerves.  That’s what she had said to him back then. It feels like so long ago.

“I wasn't being serious,” she shrugs. “I mean, about the marshmallows.”

“Oh,” he cuts in, like he understands. “I know. You didn’t want to be left alone.”

“We’re both _really_ bad at this,” she replies, bumping her shoulder against his. “But…you’re worse.”

He smiles, and returns the gesture, eyes focused somewhere at the floor, avoiding, and then he raises them to hers again.

She suddenly has the urge to pull back.  Because, it absolutely could get _more_ awkward.

“It was an invitation, Phil.”

As she watches him watch her, she’s waiting to see if wants a way out.  It might be best if she goes on imagining there’s this thing between them all of this time-

He closes the breath between them and presses his lips to hers.  Fast, then, softly, like he’s being apologetic still.

Her eyes stay closed for a moment, thinking about them in flashes.  How this will change things.  If that’s what she’s truly been afraid of all along.  When they open, she reaches for him, against their doubts, twisting the front of his shirt and kissing him back.  Holding on.

He doesn’t pull away, but he pauses for a moment after, and the smile spreading across his face tells her everything she needs to know.  They meet together again, starting over from the beginning, and it feels more like a true first kiss.  When you take away the hesitation, they’re both intense people.

Which might be another cause for concern, but not right now, he tells himself, and pushes their jackets unceremoniously off the bed, making more room as she slides backward and he comes down on top of her.

The weight of him against her makes her heart race, a moment of possessiveness comes over her.  She’s never been able to keep anything, and he’s touching her like his fingers want to memorize her all in caresses. This moment and their lives aren’t going to give them more room than this.

She starts to take apart the buttons of his shirt while he’s kissing her, feeling his tongue press against hers, when her hand reaches skin-on-skin, and then she forgets for a moment, pulling his mouth in hard, fingers grasping at his hair, his neck, until they’re both breathless and he’s planting soft kisses where her neck meets her shoulder.

Their eyes touch again, and he sits up and slides his shirt down his arms, tossing it away. She sets her hands against his stomach and pushes up beneath his t-shirt, feeling her way up to the ridged scar on his chest.  Another part of him that’s always been hidden from her. 

“Are you sure about this?”  He comes back against her easy when she wants another kiss, and she works him out of his undershirt fast so that it just separates them for a moment.

“Yes.”

Then she throws her weight and maneuvers him onto his back with her legs, and drops the shirt away, settling down against his lap so that she can get a good look at him.

“Then, slower,” he begs, a little breathless. It feels like the first time he’s ever, ever, asked her for anything. 

“You can take your time,” she tells him, pushing her hair away from her face then loosening his belt. “I’m a little more impulsive.”

It’s so deliberate.  His hands on her, making their way across her stomach, sliding beneath her shirt along her waist, like he’s drinking her in by touch.

She still gets the zipper down as fast as she can, she can feel how hard he is pressed against the front seam of his jeans and she wants to see him do it.  Her weight comes off him as he raises his hips to takes down his own jeans and briefs at once, and lets them drop to the floor.

"That, makes a lot of sense, actually," she teases, feeling him like warm velvet in her hand, and he has to shut his eyes for a moment to stay in control when she starts to chew on her bottom lip as she moves up and down the shaft.

When she starts to undress, she stands next to the bed while he leans on his side to watch, turning her back to him as she takes off her shirt, wiggling her shoulders as she looks over one at him when she slowly slips off her bra strap.

“Okay, _too slow_ ,” he says trying hard for a stern face and failing.  He reaches for her and yanks her laughing body back towards him by her belt.

She’s wondering if the cautious Coulson she’s known has left the building.  Forever.

She might be okay with that.

 

 

#

“I’m helping Inhumans to get underground.”

It makes sense that this is how things would end up with them, of course.  Sort of backwards.  She’s used to them working through things before they get closer.

The idea that it took him so long to warm up to a hug is pretty funny considering what they’ve just done.

“It could get you in a lot of trouble,” she continues, putting those thoughts aside and propping up her head with her arm. “Pretty much _all_ the trouble.”

“I have some experience with that where you’re concerned,” he teases back, looking over at her with his blue eyes, at the slight upward tilt of her chin.

“SHIELD is one thing,” she tells him, ignoring his smug expression.  She draws a circle on the skin of his shoulder with a nail, leaving a brief trace. “The entire US government is another.”

“The President told me to eliminate HYDRA.”

“He won’t take the Inhuman side of things, though,” she reminds him. “Even if you have something on him, you’ll get branded one of us politically. Especially if they take a look at your DNA.”

“Malick already shared that particular detail with the President,” he answers.

“And?” she blinks, sitting up more, looking a little shocked.

“It didn’t go over well?” he laughs, then groans at the worried look on her face.

She leans over him, narrowing her eyes. “Are you even _with_ SHIELD?”

“Yes,” he answers, offended, staring back at her with a bemused expression. “I’m not coming here hat-in-hand.  _Exactly_.”

She shakes her head, a little disbelieving, as he slips his fingers through her hair. “Okay, maybe a little, but not for that reason.”

“Then why?”

“I wanted to do the right thing,” he says, pressing the pad of his thumb against her chin. “That feels like helping you.  It always has.”

Her eyes turn down to her fingers, finding themselves drawn again back to the scar over his heart. 

They’re on the verge of saying things. Again.  And she gets that feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“You were _really_ helpful back there.  More helpful than I think you’ve ever-“

“Daisy,” he warns her. “Don’t-“

“But it happened and,” she interrupts back, pulling her knees up against her chest. “And now all the complicated stuff that comes with it.”

“I think this is the least complicated thing I’ve ever done,” he tells her, sitting up and sliding his arm around her shoulders.  “The way I feel about you is not complicated.  Now.”

He adds that last bit a moment later, after she raised an eyebrow at him.

“The situation is.  And probably always will be,” he finishes, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“How much of your time do I have?”

She looks at him, all business, and he thinks it over, leaving her with a knowing smile.

“I have to be back to the base in 48 hours.”

“The others?  Do they-“

“I can’t ask them to make this choice. I’d be happy to let them know that you and your team are safe and go from there.”

“Okay. Then let’s get started,” she says, pushing the sheets away with her feet to get up, when she feels his prosthetic on her arm, a little colder than the rest of him.

“In the morning?” he asks.  “We can figure it out together.”

She’s not used to slowing down like this. But the way he’s looking at her.  And after all of that waiting.

“Deal,” she agrees, taking his fingers between hers and letting him pull her back into bed.

 


End file.
